


for sentimental reasons

by beardsley



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: F/F, Identity Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardsley/pseuds/beardsley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rikki moves to take off her cowl, Anya shakes her head. 'Leave it on.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	for sentimental reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [prompt](http://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/6003.html?thread=879219#cmt879219): Rikki Barnes/Anya Corazón, gender play. Title from Nat King Cole.

This is what Anya loves: the adrenaline thrumming in her veins turning into something warmer and better, and the feeling of kevlar pressed close to her body, and the way Rikki's breath comes a little faster with Anya's legs wrapped around her waist. She also loves doing this suspended in mid-air on a spider web, but she'll take what she can get. The wall is hard against her back, and Rikki isn't very soft either, but sometimes Anya needs it just like that. She shimmies out of the top of her costume and pulls off her mask, letting it fall to the floor.

When Rikki moves to take off her cowl, Anya shakes her head. 'Leave it on.'

Rikki blinks. 'What?'

'The uniform,' Anya says, and grinds down with her hips, her lower back coming off the wall. Rikki supports her weight easily. 'Leave it?'

Rikki looks down at the front of her costume, the blue kevlar and the white star, then back at Anya. Beneath the cowl she's frowning, and there's something like hurt twisting her mouth, and that's definitely not how Anya wants this to go. She presses her mouth to Rikki's, just to feel her, but quickly pulls back.

'You're worrying, so let me stop you right there.' With great reluctance, she unglues herself from Rikki and though it's _killing_ her, she plucks Rikki's hands off her ass. It's a crying shame, but she knows what's going on here, and she's not having this conversation propped up against a wall. 'One, I do not secretly yearn for Steve Rogers, don't be gross.'

'That's not,' Rikki starts, but bites her tongue.

'You were thinking it, I can see,' says Anya. It's a little awkward with her in just a beat-up undershirt, but she cups Rikki's face in her hands, touching the only part of her that isn't covered in armour. There's got to be something symbolic about it. 'And two, I'm not having a gay panic attack. Your ladyparts do not freak me out. Okay? I just think you look really, incredibly, awesomely and unbelievably hot in the spangly outfit. Very few can rock it. You actually make it hot.'

Rikki bites her lip, and it takes all of Anya's admittedly already crappy self-control not to lean in and kiss her. 'But you want him,' she says, sounding disappointed. 'You want Captain America.'

'Yeah,' Anya says, in her best _duh_ voice. 'And _you_ are Captain America. And I know this. So yeah, I want to do it with Captain America, but not because I secretly want you to be a dude or something, though even if you were a dude I would climb you like a tree, but because I'm one of the few people on the planet who knows that Captain America _isn't_ a dude, and when your ladyparts come into the equation later, it will be so much hotter.' She waggles her eyebrows and leers in a way she knows is terribly unsexy, but it makes Rikki crack a smile, so mission accomplished. 'Also? I am an American citizen and it is my right to want to be ravished by you, Cap.'

'Ravished,' Rikki echoes, now actively fighting a grin.

'Look, I get it if you don't want to, but if you don't want to just because you're afraid I might like dude-you better than regular you, you have to understand that mostly it's all good with me as long as it's _you_ , so —'

'Anya.' Rikki says it in a low, gruff voice she uses only when she's being The Star-Spangled Man, and it takes Anya straight to her happy place.

'Yep.'

'You can shut up now.'

'Shutting up now,' says Anya, and lets herself be picked up again. She wraps her arms and legs around Rikki and clings more like a determined cephalopod than any kind of arachnid, pressing her face into the crook of Rikki's neck. Rikki smells like sweat and kevlar and adrenaline, and maybe gunpowder too, the way she always does after a long day. It looks like Anya's little speech sunk in, because the next thing she knows Rikki unceremoniously throws her on the couch and gives her a sharp, appraising look that's all Cap. Anya wiggles out of the rest of her costume in two seconds _flat_.

'You could do it slower,' Rikki complains, but by the time she's finished Anya is stark naked and nudges her thigh with one foot.

And it's not like she doesn't know Rikki is hella fast when she wants to be, but still she lets out a squeak when Rikki catches her foot and suddenly she's right there in her face, weighing her down. Armour on bare skin isn't as nice as Anya thought, but she has no time to complain — of course not, Rikki in field mode is all decisive and leader-y, take no prisoners. Rikki in field mode kisses differently, too. She tastes the same, her mouth soft like it always is, but she doesn't check herself, and there's a harshness that goes with the uniform. And it's _great_. Anya doesn't even care she'll probably get bruises, because Rikki in field mode turns out to be a _biter_ , and all the curves she doesn't have, all the sharp edges, just make it better.

So when Rikki licks a long wet stripe up Anya's cheek and whispers in someone else's voice, 'Get on your hands and knees,' it makes Anya moan out loud. She scrambles to obey, shivering at the feeling of armoured gloves cupping her hips, and leans in just enough to support herself with both hands on the armrest. Rikki pulls her close to her chest, and Anya remembers — just this morning, when they got called in, she helped Rikki tape her breasts. When they're pressed together like this, it feels a little alien, like Cap and Rikki are two different people and Anya only now realises it, but then Rikki presses her mouth behind Anya's ear and says, 'Tell me if that's okay,' and she sounds both like Cap and like herself, and Anya can only push back against her and nod because yeah, yeah, it's okay.

It's way more than okay when Rikki reaches around her and when did she slip off the gloves? But they're gone, and Rikki's hands are hot and smooth and _god_ , Anya wants to scream for her to touch her where it freaking matters. Maybe Rikki is reading her mind, because she just goes for it, catches Anya with her left arm on her stomach and shoves her right down, and down, and _oh_.

Fun fact: Rikki Barnes is very good with her hands. She has a _gift_. Anya could happily lie there and take it if it meant she could have Rikki's fingers on her, _in_ her. She leans back against Rikki's chest, closes her eyes and tips back her head, rides Rikki's fingers and lets herself make the most embarrassing noises ever. It takes her all of five minutes to start shaking, sweat beating at her temples and at the small of her back, and then all it takes is for Rikki to murmur, low and hoarse, 'Come on, Anya Sofia.'

And that's it. Anya reaches back to grab Rikki, but her fingers slip on the armour and she falls forward, biting her tongue on an honest to god whimper; Rikki keeps pushing in and in and in even as Anya clenches around her, and presses her mouth to the back of Anya's neck.

Breathing hard, Anya flops down on the couch and twists around so she can face Rikki. She grabs her hand and licks it clean, then pulls off her cowl and smiles as Rikki's red hair falls all over her face, damp from sweat and tangled in a complete mess. Rikki pushes it out of her eyes.

'Next time?' she says, in her regular voice, like the cowl coming off just lifted a charm. 'Next time, _you're_ taping your boobs and putting on a guy uniform.'

Anya beams.


End file.
